Retreating Haze
by Ori
Summary: He would marry her, but in turn, in some sort of twisted secret compromise, something like self punishment, he would abandon his original intentions. He would not use her, he would not even touch her.
1. Chapter 1

**Retreating Haze**

**Chapter 1**

* * *

Some nights she woke up in cold sweat, vivid images from her passing nightmare still fresh in her mind. Those dreams were always of him, him getting brutally hurt: fractured ribs, punctured lungs, crushed skull.

Sometimes, he would die in front of her, once in a while, by her bloody hands.

During those nights she would stare until dawn, wide-eyed, at the shadows projected onto the ceiling by pale moonlight. No matter how hard she tried she could never fall back into peaceful sleep.

* * *

He dreamt of that day often when he was younger. In his dreams a triumphant grin always lit his face as he watched his brother, face forever petrified in the expression of death, fall to his knees and then to the floor. In his dreams he had always felt satisfied. He found out they were, nothing more, nothing less, exactly that, dreams, fragments conjured by his wishful mind, something that was never meant to be true. In reality, his brother's final demise only left him feeling empty and numb, just as Kakashi had once warned him, just as she had once predicted.

When he woke up, when he finally had time to really look at his brother's cold grey dead body, he felt no triumph. No, all he experienced was dissatisfaction and the most heart wrenching sensation of loss and loneliness – Because just when it was all too late, he found out his brother was a twisted misunderstood hero all along.

Because now – even if it was necessary, even if it was justified – he was finally, truly alone.

* * *

The consequences of that mission were pivotal, and the battles they fought during that month would no doubt be studied by generations after her. Yet what she would remember most vividly, was not the widely reported outcomes – Danzo's death, Madara's death, or the return of peace to Konoha – but the fact that Sasuke stepped in, risked his life, and battled the immortal Uchiha when Madara attacked Naruto.

Perhaps she interpreted his actions all wrong, perhaps he did everything out of a whim, but she liked to believe otherwise. She like to believe that he felt something for the past, for Team Seven; that he could not kill his old friend like he thought he could; that when Madara attacked, he would not, could not stand to watch his old friend get killed.

As a result of his bravery (she knew better than to called it that in front of him), Sasuke suffered major trauma. His pulse was weak, his breathing shallow, but to her greatest relief Sasuke was, somehow, alive.

It took all of her self-constraint to keep from tearing up when he woke. It took even more conscious effort to leave after she finished his daily medical check-up in the month following. He needed space, she told herself, trying to shut out her desperate craving to see him to make sure he was really there. In any case, she reminded herself, she have no rights to care for him anymore, not after how she gave up on him, not after how earnestly she tried to make Naruto to give up too.

* * *

Lying in the whitewashed room, unable to move, unable to sleep, he felt the same chest-tightening helplessness he experienced when he watched his parents take their final breaths, too weak to save them, too weak to die with them.

Naruto and Sakura revived him, and carried him back to Konoha. They thought they had done a good deed, they thought they have saved him.

He wished they had left him behind instead.

It would have been better, he thought - at least that way his outside would match his inside: dead.

* * *

The media hungrily put Sasuke on the front page.

In spite of his defection to Sound and reputation for being one of the most insufferable young men in the world, news of the last Uchiha never failed to spark interest in the village. No one could quite resist a story like his: a tragic survivor of a massacre conducted by his own brother; a callous avenger so determined he literally turned himself into a demon; a prodigy who betrayed his village to become the pupil of a twisted man who tried to destroy Konoha; a ruthless schemer that killed a Legend he called master. His life was nothing short of extraordinary, the make-up of epics. His story sold.

So it was little wonder, when he recovered enough to appear in court, that his trial should become one of the highest-profile cases in Konoha's history.

There were two distinctive minds on the highly anticipated case: one, that Sasuke should be executed, and two, that Sasuke should be forgiven. It surprised no one that the other members of the long disbanded Team 7 eagerly advocated the second cause.

The following winter, the arduous trial ended in Sasuke's favour. That night, Naruto half led, half dragged a reluctant Sasuke to Konoha's best restaurant in celebration of his court victory.

Sakura watched with a small smile a few steps behind. It felt so wrong, enjoying the fruits of Naruto's faith. Sometimes, she wished Naruto would just tell everyone that it was all him, not her. She thought, that would make her feel better, less guilty. He never did, and she wondered if the knowledge of her weakness would ever stop haunting her.

* * *

Sasuke Uchiha never regretted killing Madara or his brother. His innate sense of justice would give him no rest while the two breathed. The co-murderers of a clan, even if Itachi was only trying to protect Konoha and him as Madara had once said, were still the killers of his parents, simply had to die for their act of atrocity. But that did not stop his heart from withering whenever memories of Itachi's death surfaced in his mind.

Once upon a time, that same man showed him kindness and affection. Once, he proudly called him his older brother.

Perhaps, if he had allowed himself the luxury of white lies he could have been spared the pain - but an Uchiha never makes excuses for his failures or lies for his mistakes. Blissful ignorance is for the weak and painful truths are necessary for one to grow stronger… Sasuke Uchiha wished to grow stronger twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, and fifty two weeks a year. So, he took the harrowing truth head on:

Less than a life time ago, he loved Itachi with all his heart.

* * *

One day, she heard murmurs along the hospital grapevine about the Uchiha's latest exploit; something about barging into the Hokage's office and demanding for a mission. The next day, Naruto ran into her office with a blank envelope in his hands. She took the envelope and pulled out the plain A4 sheet within. It was a note in tight, neat printing.

It read:

Naruto and Sakura,

I am going on a month long mission.

Sasuke

On further investigation, which comprised of stomping into the reinstated Hokage's office with Naruto, much shouting, and threatening to disclose the Hokage's real age to the rest of the village, it was revealed that the Uchiha did not go on any old mission; he went on a Dead-man Mission.

The first three weeks after this incident passed by painlessly. Disastrous Anbu missions filled the hospital with enough critically hurt patients to distract her from more worrisome issues, say, Sasuke's well being. However, when the rush ended and the month drew to a close without any news of her old teammate, her days became unbearably long. She began finding herself loitering outsider of the ANBU office, making excuses to visit Tsunade, going out of her way to listen in on the gossipers down the hall, compulsively checking her inbox at the hospital.

_I am going insane_, she kidded to Naruto as she checked her inbox for the fourth time in the past hour.

Naruto could not tell if she was telling a joke or the truth.

* * *

Five months after his official release and three months after his first A rank mission, Sasuke Uchiha began volunteering himself for nearly suicidal missions. Dead-man Missions, they called them; missions so dangerous they were not assigned but granted on request. At first, he simply sought escapism, a way to cope, a way to retain the little sanity he still held. He reasoned mortal dangers would detain his mind from further exploring the treacherous turf of memory… and if he dies in the process? Then he would cease to exist and everything would happily end. It would be a good death too, no one would call him weak if he died in a battle, no one could say he was pitifully submitting to fate.

Once, only once, the possibility of Itachi joining Akatsuki for the exact reason crossed his mind.

Around him, people speculated. They demanded reasons, coherent motives, logical explanations as to why a man who had so narrowly escaped death would put himself in even more danger for seemingly no incentives. When he supplied none, they formulated their own theories. Some took his involvements in Dead-man Missions as reparation for his sin, his way to repay to village for all the trouble he had caused. The more cynical ones took his indifferent attitude toward danger as death wish, evidence of lacking amour-propre, possibly psychological illness. The conspiracies theorists thought the last Uchiha took the missions to impress the high-ups in Konoha, gain their approval, infiltrate the central governing system, and eventually take over Leaf...

A few times, when the whispering became unbearably loud at a certain restaurant he left without finishing his meal. Mostly though, Sasuke only listened and stayed absolutely silent.

* * *

Sasuke stumbled into the village one night with a broken arm, multiple fractured ribs, internally bleeding lungs, and poison in his blood. Registered into the hospital at 3:00 am, he caused massive chaos within the emergency room. Haruno Sakura, head medic extraordinaire, was ironically absent. She took the day off, her first holiday in over a month, a well deserved break.

A messenger was promptly sent for her.

She arrived ten minutes later, a perfect blend of confidence and authority, alert and ready. There was no trace of her abrupt awakening just minutes before. He is going to die, they told her. Again, but they wisely kept the offending word silent. She rolled up her sleeves and declared in an eerily calm voice, Not if I can help it. Then, in front of their disbelieving eyes, she gathered chakra in her hands and began, single-handedly, the healing.

By the next morning, news of Uchiha's return would reach every ear in the village. By the next afternoon, Sasuke's infirmary would no doubt be filled with chocolates and flowers from his continually growing list of admirers. By the next night, the villagers would have engaged in at least one debate on the last Uchiha. And then the next day would pass and another cycle would begin.

* * *

He was never surprised when he jolted awake at night from dreams, nightmares, sometimes of his time with Orochimaru, other times of Madara and his maddening stare, but mostly of his childhood, of his parents, and of course, of Itachi. He could never remember the exact content of those dreams, only that they leave him feeling vulnerable, useless, and weak. So in the days that followed, he would push his body to a new limit and engage himself in decidedly reckless battles in hopes of convincing himself otherwise. He would succeed. For a short time he would find peace, but the nightmares, accompanied by a distinct sense of deja vu, would always pay him another visit.

He stayed in this cycle, this routine, because adrenaline from deadly combats helped. In his mind, Dead-man Missions were an anaesthetic, painkiller of sort, that numbed his emotional wounds with more bearable physical ones. He knew from the start it was an imperfect solution, that like all drugs, the effectiveness of this sedative would decrease with usage.

It happened five years after his homecoming. A vivid vision of Itachi hit him while he knelt bleeding and panting next to his prey, a once much feared S-rank criminal. He watched in horror as the dying man morphed into his brother right in front of his eyes, smiling the same detached smile, collected even when he took his last breath. _Bravo, Sasuke_, Madara's deep voice came off Itachi's lips, his words reverberated through his core, _now what can you live for?_

In a cathartic moment, he hugged his head and screamed.

He needed to prove Itachi-Madara wrong, he thought, his vision blurring, his mind hazing. He could not let taunting phantoms defeat him. He must find purpose again. Before he succumbed to unconsciousness near Konoha's outer gate, he remembered an old ambition he had long forgotten. Once, he had an ambition beyond revenge.

It was like seeing shadows of land against the horizon after months of drifting on a lonely raft. That wisp of hope, fragile, almost nonexistent, brought motion back into his life. He thought at the time, maybe, just maybe, this goal would make him feel whole once more.

* * *

He proposed, if you could call what he did that, to her on a cloudy day.

There was no courtship, no romance, no warning, he just appeared at her office unannounced, shut the door with a quiet click, and inquired if she had ever consider marriage. His tone was perfectly calm, unemotional, as if he was simply asking about the weather. She was so thoroughly surprised that she attributed the line to pure delusion brought upon by the lack of sleep. That was, until he repeated the question in the same dispassionate voice a second time.

_I suppose so_, she admitted, finding no reason to lie. Ninjas, jounins especially, live accelerated lives; they grow up early, they die early. So naturally, if they want a family, they also marry early. At twenty five, Sakura, jounin, apprentice of the Fifth, decidedly single, was already becoming an anomaly. _Why did you ask?_

_What if..._

Others might have missed the signs – how his hands dug deeper into the pockets, that subtle movement of his eyes toward the left – but she did not. Sasuke Uchiha was unnaturally nervous; she had little doubt of the fact, she only wondered why. Was he caught a flu? Did she fail to fully heal his concussion from last mission? And the most worrisome possibility of all: was he planning to leave the village again for another one of those impossible missions?

_What if I were to ask for your hand in marriage? _

She wanted to wave him off but something in his eyes (Fear? Desperation?) made her seriously reconsider his question. When she recognized that, for all practical purposes, Sasuke had just proposed, her heart skipped a beat.

She ought to say no, she reasoned, because she believed, knew, the most probable objective of his proposal was heirs, not love. Obvious reasons aside, an unrequited relationship would hardly create a suitable environment to raise the said children. No hovered on the tip of her tongue but the one syllable word never materialized.

_I imagine_, she heard herself say, _I would say yes_.

_It was somewhat impulsive_, she would admit to Naruto later, _I am not even really sure why I said yes_. Yet, when he suggested she should break it off if she was not sure, she could not do it.

She secretly justify to herself that she was doing everything to free Naruto from the responsibility of caring for Sasuke. But perhaps, had she been truly honest with herself, she would have realized that despite her losing faith once, she could never lose faith in him again.

* * *

He concluded at a young age that human actions are never purely altruistic. You help others because you want them to like you. You make friends because you do not want to be alone. You kill your enemies because deep inside you are still scared of death...You marry someone because you think that person is your best chance to something like happiness.

That was why he fully expected Sakura to say no. She had to – There was nothing in the marriage for her – but she did not, and it scared him.

Forget what I said, he wanted to say when he heard her shocking answer but the words died in his throat when he saw her pensive eyes. It dawned on him that she had seen through his intentions. It made him speechless. It made him want to ask her, how can you agree to marry a man that cannot love you back with a smile?

He wished he could wave her reply off as simple foolishness like once upon a time. That way, he would feel less queasy in the stomach, less disgusted, about their engagement. But he couldn't convince himself, not after witnessing her perform those complicated medical jutsus, not after watching her, twice, amended Shikamaru's battle plans.

Being engaged to her, someone with such a bright future on the horizon, someone who could and should be marring a better man that loves her, felt like a crime. The more he thought about the situation, the more he was sure that marrying Sakura would be murder in disguise. What kind of man would destroy a life for his own selfish ambition? The question repeatedly surfaced in his mind. Monsters like Orochimaru. Liars like Madara. Killers like Itachi.

The answer drove him mad.

I have to call it off, he told himself, but every time he tried to bring up the topic, Sakura would smile, or offer him a bento, or look at him in a soft (he refused to call it loving) manner. And he just couldn't, couldn't, bring himself to say…

He would marry her, he would ruin her life, but in turn, in some sort of twisted secret compromise, something like self-punishment, he would abandon his original intentions. He would not use her, he would not even touch her.

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own any Naruto characters.


	2. Chapter 2

**Retreating Haze**

**Chapter 2**

* * *

Sasuke liked ceremonies and customs. He always had. They reminded him of the past, when words like chivalry and honor meant something, when people were worth trusting, when he was still living. So when Sakura's father made "grand traditional wedding" a condition to his consent, he made no attempt to bargain.

It did not matter. Rites and rituals were in his power to perform. These did not involve matters of the heart, only clearly outlined rules and set procedures. As for the cost of a wedding at Konoha's most prestigious Shinto shrine, or the extravagant hamayome that Sakura shined in, or the reception for two hundred guests that followed the wedding? Well, those fell into the realm of materialism which he was more than capable to provide. He was, after all, the sole inheritor of an entire clan.

Providing for her emotionally; however, was out of his capability.

Everyone knew it seemed – there were shaking heads and disapproving - borderline pitying – looks that people bestowed her during their engagement. There were pointing fingers and accusing glares too, but those were only directed at him. Sakura stubbornly disregarded the warnings, even those from his loving, wise, mother. If he was a better man, someone more like Naruto, he would have gathered his courage and stopped all this. _Listen to your mother_, he would say while shaking Sakura by the shoulders with his two hands, _I can't love you. I can't love anyone._

During a mission, Kakashi asked him why he wanted to marry Sakura.

_It's none of your business_, he almost said out of habit, but he didn't, because Kakashi cared for Sakura so much (he was not so bold as to assume he still cared about him the same way) it made their engagement his business. _It is not for reviving the clan_, he said finally, a truthful answer ever since he made his resolution.

_I am glad to hear that, _Kakashi sighed, _but that wasn't my question._

Sasuke stayed silent. It occurred to him then that although he knew what the reason _was not_, he did not know what the reason _was_. In truth, there were no logical reasons, no ulterior motives that should have stopped him from putting an end to this madness, and yet, he wouldn't, _he couldn't..._ He wondered why breaking this engagement was so impossible when he had broken so many other ties before.

* * *

The wedding was everything Sakura had dreamt of when she was a young girl. The dress, the people, the place, the food – at a glance, everything was perfect.

But Sakura knew the wedding was far from perfect. She was fully aware of the tension, of the fact her mother never smiled, of the fact that other than Kakashi and Naruto, everyone else came only for her (many out of curiosity, a few out of morbid fascination). She tried her best to ignore all of that, acted like she did not notice, and gave the biggest smile while she entertained her guests. She did not want anyone's pity. She chose this, she reminded herself, she wanted this.

At the end of the night she waved good bye to her drunken guests and exited the elegant reception hall with her husband. _Sasuke, her husband_ - those words sounded so strange in her head even after being engaged to him for almost a year. It all felt like a dream; neither good nor bad, just surreal: because once upon a time, this was a dream.

* * *

He remembered a time when he lied about a broken vase. That night, his mother cooked his favorite dishes and made him watch as the rest of his family ate. His hands were unbound but he could not eat, that was the unsaid punishment, he knew. In the same way, Sakura's presence would be his punishment for all the suffering he would put her through, perhaps, for the rest of her life. She would live under the same roof, shining with her pretty smiles and attractive curves, but he would not touch her, could not touch her.

After a quick tour of his home, he slid open the door of one of the larger bedrooms and turned on the light. _This is your room_, he told her without turning toward her. She looked so beautiful he did not dare to look at her more than necessary. Retreating back into the hallway, he pointed at a door in the far end of the hallway, _That is mine_.

* * *

Three years before their marriage, Sasuke surprised the village by buying a mansion. The estate was previously owned by a wealthy businessman notorious for his reclusiveness. The likeness of the two owners caught the attention of the media and instantly the story of his new home became Konoha's hottest story of the week. Sakura remembered being surprised by the purchase. _It was too extravagant_, she thought, _it did not fit him_. The truth was the opposite, because really, what was more fitting to Sasuke than a lonely house on top of a lonely hill? The more she saw of the house, the more she was convinced that Sasuke bought the mansion because it reminded him of the long demolished Uchiha complex: large, quiet, uninhabited, a little dead.

_This is your room_, her husband told her, his voice so soft she almost missed the words. Her first thought: _what a nice room, floor to ceiling windows, new matching stylish wood furniture, walk-in closet, private bathroom_. Her second: _What? My room?_ As if answering her thought, Sasuke took a step out of the room and pointed down the hallway, _That is mine._

* * *

The last time he lived with people (with, not just around, not just near), he was part of a family. He had a brother, a father, and a mother. The few foggy memories he managed to retain from before he turned five told him they were all living quite happily together then.

It was unfortunate the only vivid memories he had of his family were those leading to the fateful night. He remembered them clearly because he had reviewed them often in his mind when he was young, trying to fit those disjointed events in his mind into something meaningful, a silver bullet that could make sense of everything. They were generally unhappy memories, and the methodical way of which he dissected them only made them cold and impersonal.

He wondered if remembering only how his parents died and not how they lived made him a bad son. He felt especially guilty about his mother because he never doubted her love. Yet, all he could remember of her (other than her lifeless form) was that she packed lunches and bandaged his knees.

He realized that was the reason why he began associating Sakura with his mother. After all, Sakura, like his mother, packed him lunches from their leftovers every night, and Sakura, also like his mother, patched his wounds. Except, of course, Sakura was deceptively strong, and she could heal the deepest of wounds, and she was alive, so very alive…

* * *

In essence, life after marriage did not change for Sakura. She never expected everything to change, but she expected something would. A heir was Sasuke's intention, she had always thought, but it did not take long for her to doubt. A year into the marriage, they still slept on different beds, in fact, Sasuke never touched her, not even something as innocent as holding her hands. When they were in the same room, he would look through her, as if looking at her was hard, even painful. Maybe he hated her, but could that really explain everything?

Sasuke was like a ghost, making apparition as he pleased before disappearing again. Sometimes she would not see him for days, the only sign of him being his shoes on the shoe rack. On the days when he was feeling particularly sociable, they would eat meals together, and sometimes even cook together. Mostly though, aside from healing the more serious wounds after his missions, their only interactions were quiet hellos when they unavoidably bumped into each other in the house and short notes they left on the fridge when one of them was urgently called away.

If Sasuke was simply her roommate, she could not complain. He was incredibly easy to live with because he was so neat and so non-intrusive, but as it was… They were married but they did not live like husband and wife. It was not necessarily a bad thing, she knew, but she could not quite convince herself it was a good thing either.

* * *

It was his first s-ranked mission after the wedding, the first mission that lasted for over a week. On the sixth day, sometime after he had sent his team to their tents for the night, he took out a calendar and counted the days to the end of the mission. It surprised him when he realized what he was doing: Sakura, it seemed, had transformed his mansion into something more.

He lived in many places in his life: the abandoned Uchiha Complex, the underground tunnels in Orichimaru's lair, the forest where Madara lived, his many apartments, and finally his empty mansion. They were points on a map, places of residence, but never a home. What made a location a home? The people who lived there, the sounds they made, the life they brought to an otherwise lifeless building. For the first time in a long time he had a home to return to; someone to return to.

He would not call it love, but he was ready to admit he felt something for her, and he knew he wanted to do more for her, if only he knew how.

* * *

She was unhappy – not all the time, of course, her life was bigger than Sasuke, but being married to him inevitable meant a good part of her life was tied to him. Maybe, if she had never loved him the arrangement would be easier to bear. But as it was... it was unfortunate that she did loved him once upon a time, troubling that the fondness never completely went away, and absolutely tragic that there were never a shortage of reminders of what their relationship missed. To her credit, she was able to hide her pain relatively well. For the most part, she could sit next to Naruto while he called wife just to ask about her morning, watch bouquets being sent to Tenten from Neji, and listen to Ino talk so animatedly about her wild sex life all with a straight face. Pity was not something she seeked – and she knew there would be no shortage of that if she was vocal.

There was a part of her (the better part) that reminded herself she did not marry Sasuke to be loved, but to love. That part of her also rationalized that sweet talks were superficial, roses died in a week, sex was totally over-rated, and she could talk enough for both of them…

The truth was: everything did matter, and every reminder was like salt on fresh wound.

* * *

He thought, whenever Sakura gave him silent treatment, knocked chairs over, slammed doors shut, or when hot tears streamed down her face when she thought he was not home, that she would leave him. But she never did, not even when she had the perfect chance. There was a doctor once, handsome, rich, not screwed up. He loved her enough to ask her to divorce her husband and marry him.

Sakura never told him about the doctor. He found out only because he overheard two gossiping guards at the village gate when he arrived back from a mission a day early. They stopped talking when he made his presence known, and even had the decency to look embarrassed. He returned to an empty house that night. A quick check of the calendar on the fridge door told him Sakura was on night duty, but despite the reassurance he could not sleep. As he paced around his living room contemplating on what he heard, he felt something akin to resignation, and maybe fear mixed with regrets. He pushed those feelings away and told himself that it was all for the greater good, that life would go on, and that the inevitability of Sakura leaving would not affect him… no, no, would _not _affect him.

The next day he went to the hospital to catch a glimpse of his wife's suitor out of morbid curiosity. He had no desire to confront anyone, so he simply hid when he found them. Sakura was in the middle of an animated conversation with another doctor, and he knew right away from the way the man looked at his wife that this was the man in the rumor. She was smiling, laughing, and unlike the conversations she had at home, this one went two ways. He might have grimaced, because at that instant his inability to converse with his wife became blatantly obvious. two years into their marriage, he still did not know what to say when she asked a question, still did not know how to act when she was around, still could not let his eyes linger on her because he knew one thing could lead to another… and he simply could not take the risk.

Had she filed for divorce, he would have quietly let her leave, because he couldn't blame her for the affair. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened had he confronted her: Would that have given her enough encouragement to leave? But he never did, she never mentioned anything, and so they stayed together.

* * *

There was something like a secret affair with a visiting doctor who tried to woo her. She let him flirt, sometimes even encouraged him. The doctor proposed at the end of his term and that was where she drew the line. _I am a married woman_, she told him, _I have vowed to stay by his side_. The doctor accused her of leading him on. The next day, he was gone.

The weeks after, in spite of the guilt that always followed, she day-dreamed about an alternate reality of what could have been. In her mind's eyes she could see another life, a comfortable but uneventful life where she would feel secured and loved. She could have been content, she knew; no one would blame her had she chosen that path, she also knew – but she stayed, and whether it was simply because of loyalty, she did not know.

She was frustrated, at Sasuke for being so distant, and at herself for being so needy. There were nights when she felt angry at everything: angry at the way Sasuke looked through her like she was not there; angry at how he never asked about her day and when she asked about his, his answers would always be so short; angry at the way he avoided any physical contact, how he flinched away from her touch; angry at how he sometimes closed doors in her face. During those nights, she would cook only for herself to make a point, and she would eat her dinner in silence, vowing to never talk to him again unless he spoke first. Sometimes she would walk through the house carelessly like a storm, making an effort to leave a mess behind her, and occasionally breaking things. Sometimes she would cry.

He took in everything silently, never angry, never cease to surprise her with his patience for her bad behavior. He would cook his own dinner, clean up after her, and fix whatever she damaged. When she woke up the next morning the house would look as perfectly as it did the morning before. He would be gone, but breakfast would be waiting for her. It was as if he was apologizing, except she should be the one apologizing instead.

* * *

His team-mates called him brave. He did not believe he deserved such title as he did not even know why he did what he did. He supposed, if he must call it something, he would call it repaying a debt. To whom? Perhaps to the village, but more likely, to the world. When he was younger, he had always thought his own vengeance would affect little other than the target of his wrath and himself. That was a fantasy, he knew now. On leaving the village and on starting a war, he affected so many innocent bystanders along the way. It suddenly became clear to him when the burning beam came down and he was the only one who could save the man, that maybe this was the reason why he was still alive. It made sense. His team-mate had a family: a wife and three children. Logically, it was a fair trade, and if he died a painful death in the process it would only be justified retribution...

But there were still so many debts unpaid, and then there was Sakura, his wife.

Sakura, whom he married but never touched... He was indebted to her, for making his life so undeniably better, for giving him something to come home to, and maybe something to live for. If he was willing to save a team-mate without a second thought, why hadn't he done anything for her? Was he really protecting her when he kept her at arm's length or was he simply too scared of being hurt again to do anything else? There was nothing to lose if there was nothing to begin with... but shouldn't Sakura be worth the risk? Were not knowing what to say nor how to act her around her simply poor excuses for not trying at all?

He gasped for air and opened his eyes.

He could see silhouettes of people moving, sense the commotion around him. Pain hit him like waves hitting the foot of a rocky cliff during a storm - relentless, strong pulses that surged, receded a little, then just when he began to forget the intensity, surged forward again at full force. Suddenly he was pulled up, pulled to the left, before being sat down again. The pain that came along with the movement was so sharp, he could hear himself scream. Sakura, he hoped was not there to see him die, not today, not on her birthday.

There was a jab on his side, and almost instantly he could feel the grips of pain medication. The pain began to dull, the sound began to dull, and darkness began to spread from the corner of his eyes. Would she finally be free of him if he dies? The last he saw of her, so long ago, she cooked breakfast for him, she asked him to come back home safely. She was smiling then, not a happy smile, he thought, but one of resignation and disappointment, perhaps. It was the smile of a woman who kept giving but was offered _nothing_ in return.

He lifted his arm to grab onto one of the moving shadows in front of him, sheer will momentarily overcame the immobilizing drug induced haze. _Don't call Sakura here_, he heard himself say, _Don't call my wife on her birthday._

* * *

Sasuke was absent most of the following March because of a four days mission that turned complicated. It pushed her further in the abyss of darker feelings known to humans. When her birthday approached with him still absent, Sakura replaced the more sophisticated wines from her previous birthday parties with spiked punch and hard shots. She wanted to drink her sorrows away, and what better excuse was there than drinking games at her own birthday party?

As it turned out, depression was a poor drinking company. When the distractions (the party, her friends) were gone, the fleeting oblivion gave way to intense headaches that kept her curled up in bed and awake. She found herself drowning, all her loneness, sorrows, and self pity brought to the forefront, magnified, like water pounding out of a broken dam. _No, no, no, stop thinking, shut up, SHUT UP_, but it was too late.

_I hate you_, she said into the darkness, to herself, to Sasuke, to the world.

When she heard knocking in the morning she thought nothing of it. A medic, she assumed, watching the ceiling spin above her, it was not the first time the hospital called for her assistance during an off day. But that was not it. Naruto was at the door, looking so solemn he did not look himself. _Sasuke was in an accident_. And just like that, she sobered.

* * *

**Uchiha Sasuke in Critical Condition after Heroic Act**

Konoha, Land of Fire – It is the latest chapter of a story of redemption, Uchiha Sasuke, the sole survivor of the Uchiha Massacre, and one time enemy of the state, is credited for using himself as a shield to save his team-mate from a falling block of concrete in a burning outpost near the border of Land of Fire. The two were brought to Konoha Hospital early yesterday night by the a rescue team sent in response to an emergency report. The teammate (name still unreleased to protect his privacy) is in fair condition this morning but Uchiha remains in critical condition.

The incident happened at the end of a gruelling four weeks mission. The fire at the outpost is still under investigation, but one informant had told Konoha Daily that initial analysis points to targeted attack against Uchiha himself. It is not known who initiated the attack, but according to the informant, the attack may be initiated by remnants of Danzo's sympathizers, or an individual who felt Uchiha's sentencing six years ago was too lenient.

"I hope one day everyone will realize as I do that [Sasuke] is a changed man. I think this incident is further proof of his transformation," said Uzumaki Naruto, head of Department of Defense and long time friend of Uchiha.

* * *

Mankind strives on Eureka moments, ever since the first caveman that invented fire, to Thomas Edison when he invented the light bulb, to Sakura whom one day realized that Sasuke really did care in some convoluted way. The moment did not come easily (Eureka moments never do), but at the price of Sasuke's near death experience, it came.

_Don't call Sakura here_, he had said, _Don't call my wife on her birthday_.

With a collapsed chest and his rib cage broken in twenty-eight places, she could only imagine the pain he felt when he gained consciousness momentarily. There was something tender, something heartbreaking in knowing that even in his suffering, even though he knew she was the best healer in Konoha, he did not want them to call her because he did not want to ruin her birthday. She wondered if she would do the same if she was in his situation, and the guilty answer came back: no, probably not. And yet, the man whom everyone thought incapable of love did exactly that. What else were they wrong about him? What else was _she_ wrong about him?

She vowed, as she watched her unconscious husband outside the ICU, that if he survived she would make an effort to really know him.

* * *

There was a sense of déjà-vu when he found himself lying in the whitewashed room attached to an assortment of machines. As the haze of unconsciousness slowly lifted he began to register the sound of pen on paper. He turned slightly to see Sakura sitting near his bed writing on a clipboard and he reached out to touched the back of her hand: she was really there.

He was alive and he was grateful.

She looked up, her eyes widened before they began to tear. Her arms surrounded him a moment later, her face buried in his chest. He almost flinched out of habit but forced himself to stay still: no more cowardice, no more pushing her away. He hesitated before gingerly placing a hand on her back.

It was a first step.

* * *

Fin (because now there is hope)

* * *

Author's Note: Oh my God I finished this story after three years? I have actually been working on this on and off the whole time, but it just didn't feel right until now.

The original ending I had in mind was different. But I think I like this ending too. Thanks for everyone's support. Please leave a review, I would be so happy to hear from you guys!


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